For my grandfather who plays the accordion/concertina. I'll cop to the fact that I was never to big on this instrument. Even though gramps (never actually called him this) knows how to play, I can't really get behind that Polack oompah polka business. However, this is where the instrument truly becomes captivating and speaks to those grand romantic gestures you almost never make but wish you have. Gosh, it's funny that music created in the whore houses of Argentina (ed. thanks for catching such an egregious error) to soundtrack god know what type of insidious escapades can be so damned enthralling. I guess that's what happens when you place the old squeeze box in the hands of a true master.
Here (reuped 7/19/12)